


For All His Other Selves

by bees_stories



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, Post Series 2, radio play tag, radio play: house of the dead, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto knew of the notion of multiverses, that every decision point was a potential fork in the road and that theoretically, there were a billion versions of his self living and loving and ultimately dying in a billion different ways. </p><p>A/N: Reaction!fic to "House of the Dead".  This occurs during the New Team Torchwood era.<br/>Dialogue was lifted from "House of the Dead" and is credited to James Goss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For All His Other Selves

***

"No! Ianto, don't leave me!"

Ianto rolled over, groggily, and opened one eye. It was very late, proper morning was hours off, and he desperately needed to be asleep. But Jack had called his name, and there was such desperation in his voice that it had pierced even the deep haze of exhaustion that enveloped his brain like a fog. 

"Don't do this!" 

He opened the other eye, now fully awake. Jack was gripped in the throes of a nightmare. His brow was damp and beaded with sweat. His face was contorted, not in agony, as it often was when dreams took him, but in sorrow. 

"No! Not like this. Don't leave me like this!" 

"Shh." Ianto scooted closer, gathering Jack into his arms. "I'm right here, Jack. I'm not going anywhere. You're here. _We're here._ Safe in our bed. It's all right." 

Jack gripped him, hard, almost like he did when he was resurrecting. He opened his eyes at last and looked up at Ianto, his confusion plain. "Ianto?" 

"Yep!" He tried to inject some lightness into his voice, even though he felt nothing of the kind. "Still right here. Although, I may pass out in a minute or so if you squeeze so tightly much longer." 

Mercifully, Jack's grip loosened, and he was able to expand his lungs. Ianto kissed the top of Jack's tousled and sweat-damped head and pulled him into a more comfortable position. "Want to tell me about it?" 

Jack closed his eyes again. He shuddered in Ianto's arms and shook his head, but began to speak anyway. 

"Once, the Doctor told me that I was a fixed point in space and time. At first I took that to mean that I was a one of a kind. A one off. Unique. That in all of the multiverses, there was only one Jack Harkness who survived the Game Station and kept going."

"But?" Ianto prompted after Jack went silent for a long moment. 

"Every so often, usually when I'm dreaming, I get these impressions. They're like dreams, but much more real feeling." He glanced up to see if he was making sense, so Ianto nodded at him to continue. "This was one of those. I was somewhere else. A different life. A much different Jack Harkness." 

"Still the swashbuckling captain?" Ianto asked. He began to massage Jack's shoulders, soothing away the tension that manifested in the knotted muscles under his fingers. 

"Not so much." He reached up and touched Ianto's hand. "I was broken. Grieving. I was ready to die and I only wanted one thing before I went." 

Ianto closed his eyes but he kept his hands moving. He hated conversations like this. It was as if he could dip into Jack's thoughts and taste the sorrow there. He considered trying to make a joke, something self deprecating, but sensed it would be better just to let Jack speak. 

"I went to this pub. They call it the House of the Dead. Know it?" 

Ianto felt his brow wrinkle and his stomach dip. "That's supposed to be the most haunted spot in Wales. We have a record in the archive that goes back almost to the inception of Torchwood Three." 

"Yeah, well in my dream, it was last call, and to commemorate that auspicious event they decided to hold a séance. Really send the place out with a bang. They had no idea." 

"And you?" 

Under Ianto's hands, Jack's muscles shifted as he not quite laughed. Ianto couldn't see Jack's face, but he could imagine the predatory smile as he said, "Oh, I was going to make sure of it." 

"Was I there?" Obviously, he had been, or Jack wouldn't have been pleading with him. 

"Yeah. Ianto Jones." Jack sounded so … sad and happy all at once, as if just saying his name was bringing back a fragment of the nightmare. Ianto swallowed against a pang of sorrow. "Always at my side. Except, you see, you weren't. Not really. I had gone to the House of the Dead because that night ghosts were supposed to appear, and I wanted very badly to see yours ... one last time."

"So did you?" 

"Yeah. And it was totally a 'be careful what you wish for' scenario." There it was again, the shifting of Jack's frame, as if his body was trying to convey what had happened just as much as his words. "Your dad showed up. He seemed like a nice guy, by the way. I'm sorry I never had the chance to get to meet him." 

"Yeah," Ianto replied automatically. Ianto loved his father. But thing had gotten a bit rough along the way between them. It was a source of regret they'd never really patched things up properly. 

"But he let it slip you were a ghost. And you took it badly." 

"Wait." Ianto hadn't meant to break Jack's narrative, but he'd been taken by surprise. "I died and failed to notice? That doesn't seem like me. Does it?" 

Jack shifted again, this time to look up at Ianto and smile. "Ianto, that is exactly like you. Knowing I'm likely to run into you down in the archive long after … Well, it's a very small consolation." 

Ianto tried to take that on board as Jack scooted around to reverse their positions. As Jack settled his hands over his heart, Ianto couldn't decide if it was a compliment or a slight, but decided to err on the former. 

"I'll make a point to start working on telekinesis training. If I'm meant to be a ghost, then I may as well be a useful one." 

"Don't pout." Jack pressed a kiss against his brow and continued. "Anyway, we had a row about it. You were angry that I'd brought you back. You see, in that other world, I hadn't had a chance to say a proper goodbye. And I was stupid enough that I never told you how much I loved you, either." 

Ianto had to close his eyes again against the ache in Jack's voice. They weren't exactly the most traditionally loving of couples. They weren't keen on pet names or heartfelt declarations, and sometimes, he supposed, in their efforts to protect one another against harm or heartache, they held back their own feelings when they shouldn't, but there was never, never, any question in either of their minds how the other felt.

"I take it at least I was smart enough to have figured that much out on my own?" 

Jack sighed. Was he shamed for his other self? Or was it something else? "Yeah. But of all the things I'd got wrong in my life, that life, I mean, that was my biggest regret, and it was the one thing I wanted to fix before … "

Ianto interlaced their fingers. "You're a romantic, do you know that?" 

"I'm what you make me." Jack raised Ianto's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. "I'm a much different man because of you, Ianto Jones. A better man." 

They lapsed into silence, allowing the contact of their bodies to soothe and comfort them. 

Ianto knew of the notion of multiverses, that every decision point was a potential fork in the road and that theoretically there were a billion versions of his self living and loving and ultimately dying in a billion different ways. As Ianto reclined against Jack's chest, he tried to absorb this strange, new facet of Jack's existence. Could he really have a subconscious window to those other worlds? 

He remembered an odd experience of his own. He'd had an encounter with a pink, squid-like alien one day on the Plass. It exploded, and the shower of resultant chemicals had sent him tripping into a world where Jack was a hard, cruel, tyrant ruling Cardiff with an iron fist, and Torchwood was an agency that exploited the Rift for profit. Could it be that somewhere out there, that Jack was real too?

It was too much to take in. It was still late. He was still tired, though less urgently so. And for reasons he couldn't really understand, he felt a need to make amends for whatever that alternate version Ianto had done. 

He rolled over in Jack's embrace and then climbed the length of his body, planting a line of delicate kisses against Jack's chest, and throat, and finally his mouth.

Jack's return kiss was tentative at first, and then desperate, a part of him was still caught in the memory of his dream. 

Ianto let him lead. What ever Jack needed, he would give. On behalf of his other selves, he would settle their debt.

End


End file.
